


Putting Out Fire (with Gasoline)

by a_biting_smile (quickreaver)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Animal Characteristics, Frottage, M/M, Purring, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickreaver/pseuds/a_biting_smile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day in paradise becomes something else entirely when the last appointment on masseur Jensen Ackles' schedule starts ... purring. (Written for a kink meme fill o'er on LJ.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting Out Fire (with Gasoline)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've never been to Hawaii nor am I a massage therapist, so I've likely misrepresented both of those things! Forgive me, dear reader, and roll with it for the sake of the smut. ;) Title ganked from the soundtrack to the movie 'Catpeople'. I love that damned awful film.

xXx

“Ackles, your last appointment is here.”

“Yeah, thanks, Oz.”

Osric rapped the doorframe and popped his head back out of Jensen's massage station.

Not a damned minute too soon, either. Jensen was _done._ Long day, high season. Tourists teeming all over the resort, overextending themselves on the tennis courts or the catamaran. Husbands gifting their wives with a spa day. Husbands gifting _husbands_ with a spa day.

At any rate, his shoulders and wrists were feeling it. Maybe he could cajole Osric into giving him a quick upper-body before he dragged back to his apartment, but chances were, Oz would be long gone by the time Jensen was done with his final client. The kid usually didn't linger.

Another day in paradise.

“Hey.”

Jensen was organizing oils and warming his hands when his seven o'clock walked in. Not what he expected. At all.

Jensen had been at the spa long enough to read people at a glance, the Old Money from the New, poseurs playing at wealth, celebrities trying to fly casual like average folk … it was a game to make the day less tedious. Not that he didn't love his job, because God knew he did, but Jensen by his own admission wasn't long on patience.

This guy was none of the above, though. Working-class type. “I'm Jared.” But it came out “Ahm Jrrd.” Southern mainland. No, southwest? Maybe it was the drawl that made him seem vaguely familiar. Felt a little like home. 'Jrrd' extended a hand, the gesture awkward but friendly, and his grip was warm and dry and calloused. Huge palm, long fingers. Strong. He was getting tanned but his forehead and nose were still pink from too much sun. New to the island.

 _Sunscreen is your friend,_ Jensen said to himself, smiling his professional smile out of habit. But he had to admit to just a tad more curiosity than usual. He didn't see guys that much taller than him on a regular basis. “Aloha ahiahi. I'm Jensen. Welcome to Pure Kauai. This your first time?”

“That obvious, is it?” The guy's—Jared's—cheeks turned pink, too. He dragged a hand through his longish hair, another nervous tell. He'd have to put all that hair up for the massage. It was nice hair though, Jensen mused off-handedly. “But actually, I work here. Grounds. Just started a coupla weeks ago, so you've probably never seen me.”

Jensen fished a black scrunchie from a drawer and handed it over. Grounds keeper. Wait, he _had_ seen Jared before, on his way to lunch. Jensen remembered a sweaty back in staff coveralls, tangled up in a hose and trying to make heads or tails of a hedgerow of hibiscus. “I knew you looked familiar. I saw you rooting through the red hibiscus on the east campus—”

“When?” Jared snapped out a little too fast, then grinned uncomfortably to cover.

 _Huh, dimples. Nice hair, nice smile. Full of nice, this one._ “Nooo. Noon-ish? Monday, maybe?”

“Ah, okay. Right. Yeah, that woulda been me.” He fiddled with his hair, stuffing it into the scrunchie as best he could, which was to say, rather poorly. But the hair was up off his nape and that's what mattered. Nice neck, to go with the hair and smile. Long, well-defined. “So, now what? Never done this kinda thing before. But I pulled a muscle and the boss said if I didn't take care of it, I'd be toast.”

“Boss was right, “ Jensen said with a judge-y brow arch. He couldn't help himself. It was admittedly amusing to watch the guy fumble and blush. “Did you shower before you came over?”

“Of course! I wasn't raised in a barn.”

Jensen bit back a laugh. “Then take off your clothes, down to your underwear. I'll leave while you change. There's a robe on the—”

“I, um, go commando.” It didn't seem possible, but Jared got even pinker. Fucking priceless.

“Not a problem.”

“And you don't have to leave.”

Small problem. Because maybe Jensen was just a little too interested in the idea of watching blushing Jared strip. The realization hit Jensen like a sneeze. All of a sudden, he didn't feel quite so professional anymore.

“All … right.” Jensen made like he was studiously selecting just the right massage oil, collecting towels, all the while listening to the shush of fabric being pulled off and the jangle of a belt buckle. Something warm and inconvenient started to pool in his belly. He was pulling the window shades when Jared stopped him.

“Nah, don't. Too closed in. I like watching the sunset. That okay?” It seemed like a timid request. Jensen looked from the hand that had thumped onto his back, up the terryclothed arm, to shoulders that were broader than they had the right to be.

His proportions were ridiculous. The robe was cinched tight around Jared's narrow waist, and now that he was out of the raggedy jeans and t-shirt, the truth of it became ragingly clear. As did the fact that Jensen, even though he'd been having a perfectly lovely time with Danneel lately, missed having a nice cock in his life.

Jensen cleared his throat, gestured to the massage bench. “On the table, then. Face down. Hands by your sides.”

Jared complied, his bare toes hanging off the end. Jensen folded a small handtowel and, lifting Jared's head, slid it under his face to cushion his cheek. Jared's eyes, narrow and tipped up at the corners, slid closed. His jaw was shaved smooth and he smelled lightly of whatever soap he'd used and … something else. Jensen couldn't place it. Not a cologne, exactly. Something earthy and warm, and for as vague as it was, it was hitting him hard. Made his dick stir uncomfortably in his spa-issue pull-on khakis.

 _Business, Ackles,_ he reminded himself, exhaling hard. He pulled the loose collar of the robe, peeling it down Jared's back, his nut-brown back, remnants of rosiness on the shoulders where he'd probably burned and peeled and retanned already. Once the robe was rolled to his waist, Jensen slid Jared's arms out of the sleeves and settled them back down. There were three-four thick lines of white scar on his left arm, across the triceps. Jensen had to touch.

Jared snorted, like it tickled.

“Sorry.” Jensen jerked his hand back, felt his ears heat up.

“S'okay. Figured you were wondering. Ugly, huh? Stupid dare, barbed wire. That about sums it up.” He was a little muffled by the towel and the fact he was looking towards the window and the sunset, away from Jensen.

“Got a few of those stupid dares in my own past, who doesn't,” Jensen said, keeping his voice conversational. He poured oil into his palm, rubbed his hands together and set to work, skimming across Jared's pronounced trapezius, the spine of his scapula. His body temperature seemed to run a few degrees hot, the skin heated, almost overly so. Not feverish, though, and probably explained why Jared was so vascular, blood vessels traceable across his forearms, the muscle striations visible beneath the tawny skin. Bet he had the metabolism of a hummingbird and could go for hours—

Jensen blinked and took a slow breath, pulled his brain out of his libido. This was stupid. He wasn't hard up for a fuck here at the spa. Danneel was a good time, and neither of them wanted exclusivity. Same with Jeff. Jensen liked what he had going with his 'love' life, uncomplicated and stringless. Beautiful people in a beautiful land. He was so damned lucky, but for some mystery reason, he was rocked by the way Jared's skin felt. It was like … like something chemical happening between Jensen's palms and Jared's broad, thick back. Connecting and sparking. He doesn't want to lift his hands, risk breaking that seal. And his resulting hard-on was nothing even close to professional behavior; his body had better get the memo.

Cracking his own neck with a head roll, Jensen forced his concentration onto the knots and pressure points—smooth, even rubs down the latissimus dorsi, kneading the bunched muscle he finds at Jared's right shoulder. Jared moans when Jensen hits just the right spot.

“Too hard?”

“No, no. Feels … good.”

 _Yeah, it does._ Jensen closed his eyes and refocused on his technique. Attacking the tension and pent up energy in that shoulder distracted from the growing ache between his legs. His fingers, strong from years of this work, dug in with practiced skill, manipulated the delts and pressed up into Jared's hairline. He prodded the tautness from Jared's neck, rubbed little circles into the escaped curls at the base of his scalp, and swore he could feel a buzz humming from Jared's very core. Faint electric tingles prickled up into Jensen's fingertips.

Of course, this was odd. Of course, he should be wondering what the hell was going on here, pull his hands away and take stock. Do the smart thing.

Instead, he leaned in as close as he dared, the heat issuing off Jared's back like an engine, a Nascar beauty, and now Jensen was positive he heard it, actually heard it. A rumble, rich and tuneless, coming from the man on the table. 

Not only did he hear it, he felt it. Deeply.

Jensen had to shift his legs, adjust himself. He rested his palms on Jared's shoulders and spoke into his ear. "Hey. Are you ... um ..." The word _purring_ was just too absurd to say aloud. Maybe Jared had fallen asleep and was simply snoring. Wouldn't have been the first time a client had done this.

But Jared twitched and the sound stopped instantly. He flipped over and off the table, narrowly missing Jensen's forehead, and landed on his feet, clutching at the robe. His eyes, wide with panic, darted to Jensen's face. 

And the irises were gold. As gold as the sunset out the window behind him. The scantest tips of fangs peeked out from between his parted lips.

“What. The fuck.” The words came out of Jensen's mouth before he could stop them, and Jared snapped his jaw shut. “Did I just … are those …?”

“Oh god.” Jared moaned, blinking. “I'm, god, this has never happened before.” He took a step towards Jensen, raising his palm. “Please, you can't—”

Jensen took an instinctive step back. “No, it's okay, I just never, um.” The thrill of adrenaline, fight or flight, zapped through his body and left his hands cold. Somehow, though, his dick was still as warm as before and entirely too interested in the way the robe dipped low on Jared's torso, the fabric so very white against his tan skin and the dark skim of hair on his chest, the trail running from his navel to his cock. Which, it seemed, was just as interested as Jensen's. The crush of robe Jared had balled up at his crotch was decidedly mounding.

“What _are_ you?” Jensen's eyes dragged from Jared's erection, up the ridges of abs to a huge puckered scar of a bitemark on his left pec. So the movies were right. Holy shit.

“It's not what it looks like.”

“Really? Because it looks like you're some kind of, oh, werewolf.”

“Cat.”

“Werewolf _cat_?”

“Werecat. This is so … awkward.” Jared rolled his eyes and dragged his hand through his hair, dislodging the elastic band. And all Jensen could think about was getting his fingers tangled in that nest and pulling … 

No, no. This was too bizarre, off-the-fucking-charts bizarre. Jared took another smooth step forward, probably intending to soothe the situation, but Jensen found himself pressed against the wall, his heart pounding and the lightswitch digging into his shoulder blade.

The wild hair, eyes shining bright like doubloons, those sharp white teeth. Jensen should run, he should get the fuck out of there and hit the panic button by the reception desk and alert Security, like _now_ but …

He doesn't.

Jared began to smile, all teeth and tongue, yet Jensen let him approach, didn't bolt. He might not be be able to stop Jared, but that was irrelevant to the fact that Jensen didn't even try. God only knew why.

He got close enough for Jensen to see the light sheen of sweat on his throat, the way his pupils were narrowed to slits. Jensen squirmed and his shoulder flipped the lightswitch off, leaving the room suddenly dark save the fading glow of dusk. The beach beyond was private and dangerous with rocks; there would be no one back there this late in the day. No one to notice if Jensen got ripped to shreds. The spa had a closed circuit camera trained on the front desk, but not in the massage rooms. Client privacy and all.

This was, quite possibly, the end of Jensen Ackles.

Jared drew nearer still, but didn't touch. His nostrils flared, and he set a hand to the wall just beside Jensen's head, leaning in. There was the rustle of fabric hitting the floor; Jensen felt the robe brush his shins.

“You smell good, yanno?” Jared said, low, and Christ the guy actually rubbed his cheek against Jensen's. Their skin chafed and Jensen swallowed hard, couldn't think of a damned thing to say. This wasn't exactly in the employee handbook. 

And then the rumble started up again. It _was_ purring, bass and resonate, coming from deep within Jared's chest. He felt Jared's dick brush his thigh, and it just made him harder. It shouldn't have, but it did.

“You gonna kill me?” Jensen asked, his voice breaking.

“No.” Just that simply. And Jensen believed him.

Teeth tugged on Jensen's earlobe, pinching, and Jared pressed into him and ran his hand up under Jensen's polo. The sting of nails scraped up his belly before lingering on his nipple, fingerstips pulling it to an easy peak.

Jensen had gotten so hard it hurt. His heart pounded like pistons but his hands were numb at his sides. Didn't matter, though, because Jared took control, kept rubbing along the length of Jensen, his throaty growl making the hairs on Jensen's arms prickle.

Jared slipped a hand past the elastic waist of Jensen's uniform pants and curled warm fingers around his cock. For how roughly Jared battered against Jensen's chest and neck, nuzzling his throat and biting at his jaw, he was almost delicate with his cock. He slid the pants down across Jensen's thighs and turned his hips so that their cocks crushed together, held fast in his hand. His palm cruised up and down the shafts, lingering a finger just under the corona.

A groan escaped Jensen and he finally got his hands to work, to clutch at Jared's flanks and curl dull nails into his skin. God, Jared was beautiful, hard and noisy. He growled and hummed, nipped at Jensen as his hand worked their dicks together, thumbing the crowns and smearing pre-cum.

Jensen canted his head back and his skull knocked against the wall. He looked to the ceiling and took quick breaths, filling his nose with the scent of Jared's hair. It was good, soap and salt and an earthy smell he still couldn't place but he knew he liked. No, craved. Organic, it felt like a part of him, and dragged the want out like suction. This was nothing he'd felt before.

Backlit by the searing sun, blood orange and bruising purple, Jensen came on a long moan. Jared held him fast when his thighs trembled, when he wasn't sure his legs would hold his weight. And then Jared moved to snarl a fist through Jensen's hair, staring with otherwordly eyes and barred teeth, spilling hot over both of them.

They breathed together for long seconds, sharing sweat, riding the aftershocks, twilight throwing shadows into the corners of the room and an ominous sense of trouble, just beginning, across Jared's face. 

It took what seemed like an eternity for Jensen's heart to stop thudding. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “What. The fuck.”

“You said that already.” Jared murmured, finally blinking.

Jensen felt oddly defiant, ignoring another frisson of warning in the back of his brain. “You got something better?” 

Jared huffed, maybe it was a laugh. He gave Jensen's dick a sharp tug that drew out a gasp and pressed their mouths together in a hard kiss, his tongue coarse and demanding. He pulled back, and it left Jensen dizzy.

“Yeah,” Jared said, smiling big. “Mine now.”


End file.
